100 Ways to say I Love You and Other Things
by FifthHumor
Summary: A series of unrelated stories revolving around the lives of Gokudera and Yamamoto. Each chapter is another entry for a 100 Theme Challenge. 8059 focused, PWP, swearing and smut in some chapters.
1. Life

_**Comfortable Routine**_  
Pairing: 8059 (Yamamoto, Gokudera)  
Rating: PG13  
Genre: general, character study  
Summary: A single day can be interpreted in so many ways.  
Prompt: Life

* * *

_Hayato Gokudera_

It's not the alarm clock that wakes Hayato every morning, but Takeshi's snoring. Soft and inconsistent at night, the noise isn't so bad. But for some reason, it becomes unbearably constant and thundering after 8AM. Trying to stop it is a lost cause though, so by now Hayato has come to expect it, not at all phased that it's the sound of the interrupted breaths of another man that rouses him from bed most mornings. He'll never admit that he believes Takeshi is deserving of rest, so he untangles himself from the mess of limbs and sheets while telling himself that he simply can't deal with that oaf's noise that early in the day.

Unless there's something urgent that must be tended to, it's another hour or two before the Rain Guardian rises. More often than not, Hayato greets him with pleasant indifference only because it takes a certain amount of energy to be constantly grumpy—even in the case of being around the baseball idiot. The first thirty or so minutes shared together is usually silent, much to Hayato's unexpressed relief because he can't bear the idea of having playful banter over breakfast like some married couple.

And then one of them goes to put in hours at the office or gets called to go on an emergency mission somewhere or they both just sit around all day, Hayato neither celebrating nor lamenting the other body padding about the apartment they shared.

When night falls, Hayato prefers to lose himself in novels or science journals. Occasionally, Takeshi will show up wanting something: conversation or food or sex. Initially, Hayato had been reluctant about obliging to the third, but nowadays he finds himself a little anxious for it and he can't fathom when the hell that started happening. Whatever happens, he always falls asleep wrapped in the baseball player's arms, mumbling halfhearted insults at him for being so damn clingy as consciousness slips from them both.

_Takeshi Yamamoto_

By the time Takeshi cracks open his eyes in the morning, the bed is empty.

The first time it happens his heart drops into his stomach and he's sure there's drama to be had, but when he slams the bedroom door open he is met with a scowl and the glare that he grew to love years ago and he is comforted by the unspoken agreement that Hayato isn't going anywhere.

Takeshi has learned since then and now he enters his living room relaxed, always grinning when he sees Hayato has stolen his slippers again though not ever saying anything when the man sometimes inquires as to what brings such a sunny disposition so soon after waking.

In the beginning, strained conversation was initiated by Takeshi. He's more attentive than it seems though, so it doesn't take long for him to realize that to Hayato it feels much too forced. To the Rain Guardian, this is perfectly acceptable. He simply contents himself with thinking about all the things he likes—primarily the bomber that sits across the table from him morning after morning.

On days when one of them has to leave, the baseball player feels a sort of puppy-like longing for his other half and often expresses so later in the evening when he arrives to find the silveret smoking or reading or just brooding. These exchanges rarely involve the Italian party uttering phrases like "I love you", but things always end with spread legs and wanton moaning and hickeys everywhere. Though even on nights like that, the man insists on vowing revenge and calling him an idiot as his words become less and less coherent. Takeshi just lays there with his arms enveloping him and listens, interpreting each swear word and insult to meaningful and loving. Hayato can complain all he wants, but Takeshi knows that the fact that the Storm Guardian chooses to return _here_ every night has to stand for something.


	2. Youth

_**Sky High  
**_Pairing: 8059 (Yamamoto, Gokudera)  
Rating: NC17  
Genre: humor  
Summary: Reminiscing can lead to hard-ons.  
Prompt: Youth

* * *

It took months of pleading, but Hayato has finally agreed to start living with boyfriend of now four years, Takeshi. Well really, Takeshi is moving in with Hayato, as the latter refused to go through the hassle of moving his things and begrudgingly admitted that it would be nice to have the other around 24/7. It is thanks to this development that for the first time in years, Takeshi is cleaning his tiny, studio apartment.

Even with his seemingly boundless energy, it doesn't take long before Takeshi is overwhelmed by all of the boxes and dust and hunger that's nagging at him. Sweaty and exhausted, he takes a seat on the floor smack in the middle of the room, barely visible among all the clutter. As he rests, he grows bored and begins rummaging through the box closest to him, gauging whether or not its contents are worth the trouble of carrying it down flights and flights of stairs to the car he's renting. After burrowing his hand under a few haphazardly wrapped wine glasses, he finds himself grasping something thick and pulls.

It turns out to be a photo album, one of at least a dozen he's filled up over the years of escapades that came about during his introduction to and joining of the Vongola family. The majority of the book is pictures of Tsunayoshi and Hayato, sometimes apart, but most of the time Hayato's face is nearly plastered to Tsunayoshi's in admiration. The last page of the album contains only one picture. Takeshi stares at it briefly before picking it up gingerly and allowing the tiniest of grins to creep on to his face.

It's a Polaroid of himself and Hayato, their faces close in a new intimacy. Yamamoto had taken it sloppily, holding the camera himself and almost making the lens' focus miss them entirely. Hayato's eyes were pretending to take an interest in something off camera, a heavy blush powdering his cheeks. Takeshi remembers that day too well. It was not even a week after their relationship had been blatantly adverted by a third party...

* * *

_4 Years Prior_

Once again, Reborn had brought a handful of the Guardians out to the woods for training with various "instructors." Yamamoto doesn't mind the idea at all, more than happy to do some training out in the wilderness. Gokudera is not the least bit enthused about it. Especially when it is revealed that they'll be out here for weeks and they have to stay in cabins and his roommate is a certain Rain Guardian and honestly this is much too similar to camping for his taste.

A few days in, Yamamoto had been laying on the top bunk of their beds, staring up at the cabin ceiling and daydreaming about nothing in particular when Gokudera storms in with sticks of dynamite still threaded between his fingers.

"How the fuck," the boy asks incredulously, "did _you_, of _all people_ finish early?" He glares up at the figure that he's sure is Yamamoto, spread out all leisurely like nothing really matters. It pisses him off more and the idiot hasn't even acknowledged him yet.

The ravenhair doesn't change positions; he just smiles behind the cover of the bunk. "Oh hey, Gokudera," he greets casually. "I guess Squalo just got tired of me. Lucky me, huh?" He laughs.

It's got this awful sort of nonchalantness to it, as if it's not incredibly insulting in this context. While it normally would have agitated Gokudera, on this occasion it's absolutely infuriating. Gokudera's hand flies to his breast pocket to retrieve his lighter and he doesn't manage to catch himself until he is a reflex away from thumbing the flintwheel. "Yeah, _anyone_ could get tired of you." It just isn't fair that after three and a half hours, Yamamoto was excused from the whole ordeal for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, the remaining Guardians were forced to spar and run and get all kinds of dinged up.

Yamamoto feels something between complacence and sympathy. "Maa, maa, don't be _jealous_, Gokudera. I'm sure you'll do better tomorrow." He meant to be teasing, though he's not sure how the other heard it.

He can't take it back, though, and Gokudera takes the bait. Within seconds he's at the top of the ladder, a hand on Yamamoto's collar and the other holding the top rung for balance. "You saying you're better than me, asshole?" he spits. Simply the idea of it stokes his anger and he doesn't wait for a reply. Instead he closes the distance between them, straddling the baseball player with hands now balled into fists as they wrinkle the fabric of his shirt. Gokudera leans in close, their noses nearly touching. "I will blow you fucking _sky high_, ya got that?"

At this, Yamamoto only grins devilishly. He feels some form of want that he can't discern that Takeshi now recognizes as lust. "Will you, now?" The amusement in his voice is dangerous and taunting. "I wouldn't mind that so much."

Gokudera frowns in confusion, but his expression quickly becomes one of acute disapproval. He'd climbed onto the bed to threaten his enemy, not get felt up. The latter was currently happening; a pair of hands were suddenly massaging him, mapping out the curves of his hips and ass through his worn pants. "I don't know," Gokudera hisses as he shifts atop him uncomfortably, "what the hell you think you're doing, but you have three seconds to _stop_." And instantly the touch is gone. Yamamoto has his hands up on either side of his head in a show of consent, but he's still smiling, the smug bastard.

Gokudera makes sure to fit Yamamoto with a fresh black eye before climbing off of him and down the ladder. Just for good measure.

* * *

The following afternoon Yamamoto ducks just in time to miss a sword-gone-projectile headed for his neck. Unfortunately, there is nothing he can do to deter the assault on his ears seconds later.

"Hey baseball brat!" Squalo screams at him, though they're only ten feet away from each other. "The hell's the matter with you?"

Yamamoto stands up, stretching. He figures his teacher must be in the mood for another rant and decides it's best to say nothing lest he earn a couple more lacerations.

Silence is the one kind of response that Squalo doesn't take. "Voi! Answer me!"

Yamamoto shrugs and squints at him with a hand perched at his forehead as a makeshift visor from the sun. "Dunno. Just feelin' a bit out of it, I guess."

Squalo throws his hands up into the air, gesturing wildly. "You need to get the hell back _in_ it, then! Quit daydreaming! Baseball season is _over_!"

Then Yamamoto opens his mouth to deliver a quip but he's cut off by a very recognizable voice. "Christ, will you shut up?" It's not Squalo being unnecessarily loud now, but Gokudera. He's standing a fair bit away from the swordsmen, between them and creating a sort of invisible triangle.

It's too late to stop Yamamoto from donning the face of an overexcited child at the sight of the silveret. "Oh hi, Gokudera!" His greeting is one of genuine, pleasant surprise, even as he gingerly touches his eye that's almost bruised shut.

Gokudera ignores him and keeps his eyes trained on the Shark as he speaks. "Think you could bring it down a few hundred decibels? They can hear you all the way in the Armstrong Nebula and I doubt they appreciate it."

But Squalo's gaze is set on the other swordsman. "Why are you looking at him like that? All excited and shit..." The pause that follows brings a fresh paint of rage to Squalo's features. "You're _still_ sleeping together?"

Gokudera exclaims, "what '_still_'?" but the Varia captain continues. "What ever happened to 'hit it and quit it'? No wonder your expression's all dreamy!" He sighs dramatically and takes a few steps closer to the boys. He points at Yamamoto. "You need to get your shit together. And you," now his finger targets the Storm, "need to get back to opening your damn legs so he can stop having wet dreams in the middle of training!"

Now Gokudera is sputtering, face flushed. It's mostly just from the man's colorful complaints, but also from the fact that Yamamoto's lips are curved the wrong way down. "I can't believe you just said that."

"I can't believe you're such a cockblocker," comes Squalo's counter without missing a beat.

Yamamoto's lips seemed to be glued in one position. It's not helping Gokudera any and it's obvious that it's taking every once of the latter's willpower to keep from just bolting out of the situation. "Cockblo—_Seriously_? Like I care!" His hands fly up, mirroring what Squalo did only moments ago. "Fuck Yamamoto's cock!"

"That is _exactly_ what he needs!" Squalo stomps, making a rather comical spectacle of himself.

All this sudden talk about the state of his genitals makes Yamamoto interject. "Maa, maa. Maybe we should just—"

The next thing he knows, Yamamoto is on his back surrounded by displaced earth and he's not sure if the haze he's seeing is in sky or just in his head. Something's burning and Squalo is somewhere nearby, presumably in the same predicament as he is now shooting a seemingly endless stream of curses and profanities in what he can only assume is the direction they were were just blown from.

An awful headache is coming on now and Yamamoto closes his eyes painfully. "He really wasn't kidding about sky high."

* * *

Hours later, Yamamoto returns to the cabin looking grimy and missing several parts of his clothes. Even now, he's smiling weakly at Gokudera, who's sitting on his bunk with his elbows resting on his knees.

The smile is returned with the expected scowl. "I'm not sorry," is all the silveret says.

"What, about this?" Yamamoto lifts what's left of his shirt to reveal nasty burn on the side of his abdomen. "It's no trouble at all." He's only half sarcastic, despite the pain. It makes the Storm scoff and roll his eyes. "Have you given it any thought? I mean, about—"

"There is abso-fucking-lutely no way I'm sleep with you. Again."

Yamamoto chuckles and crosses the space between them in a few strides. He takes a seat next to Gokudera and assumes the same position, pretending that he doesn't hear the sigh of exasperation that comes with it. "I don't remember you complaining before."

Actually, Gokudera deplored everything the entire time he was on his back with a certain someone taking up the space between his legs. He had a problem with the location (his own dilapidated, rat-hole apartment), the foreplay (or lack thereof), the "ambiance" (his favorite music books were spread out beneath him in a makeshift blanket; Mozart's work deserved much better treatment, he thinks), the grip on his thighs (if baseball players wear gloves, why do they have so many callouses?), and of course, his partner (Stupid Fucking Useless Douchebag Baseball Idiot).

This is all irrelevant as far as Gokudera is concerned. "Do you ever stop talking?" There's a hand creeping up his thigh and warm breath in his ear giving him gooseflesh and he doesn't like it one bit.

"I'd be willing to do something else if you're not in the mood to talk~"

* * *

Takeshi only becomes painfully aware of the stiffness in his pants when his phone begins to vibrate only inches away from the erection in question. Of course, the person who's been co-starring in his erotic dreams for years would be the one to cut his reminiscing of one short.

"_What the hell are you doing?"_ Hayato's attempting to sound annoyed, but Takeshi easily recognizes it as poorly concealed longing.

"Patience, Hayato," he coos as he nurses his cock, fingers so deft that he barely noticed himself when his fingers worked their way through his jeans and boxers. "Patience," he says again, more for himself though because it seems like his fingers are intent on bringing him to climax as soon as possible.

"_Hey. Hey, I know that tone! Stop jacking off!"_

* * *

**A/N:** Since intimate relationships don't just pop into existence, I refer to the boys they way they would refer to each other based on their closeness at the time. So Takeshi/Hayato = TYL and Yamamoto/Gokudera = flashback (the "4 years prior" time). And as much as I try to be sparing with profanity in my work, I think that the farther back in time you go, the more volatile their relationship is simply because darling little 'Dera is abrasive and tactless (which is not horribly surprising). Squalo, of course, needs no excuse. 8D He's just _like_ that.

Finally finished this! Spring semester of uni just started, so I can't update as frequently as I'd like to. I really appreciate everyone's patience~ Thank you all for putting this on your alert list! It's really encouraging. ^^

Thanks for reading!


	3. Content

_**All Things Considered**_  
Pairing: n/a  
Rating: PG  
Genre: General  
Summary: It's not until people start asking questions that Tsuna realizes just how good he has it.  
Prompt: Content

**A/N**: Tthanks to everyone who added this series to their favorites and/or alert lists! I really appreciate it! This chapter isn't really 8059-centric, but I promise to make up for it in later chapters since there's still a loooong way to go~

* * *

_Kyouya Hibari_

At age twenty-five, Kyouya Hibari hasn't really changed much. He is still as caustic, misanthropic, and inclined toward homicide as he was ten years ago. The only problem is that now he's taken his personal vendetta against herbivores global and the consequences of property damage only seem to matter to him when he's in Namimori.

When he's not off doing whatever secretive things he does (to this day, even Tsunayoshi doesn't know what, exactly, his 'work' entails), he's sulking around in his traditional Japanese clothes and pissing off Ryohei with his omnipresent appearance of apathy. Every now and then Dino shows up with fresh cuts and bruises and he doesn't have to say anything for the Vongola to figure out that he's recently had dealings with the Cloud Guardian. Despite all of this, Tsunayoshi cannot deny that the man comes through when the Family needs him most. As far as Decimo is concerned, that's all that matters when Gianini comes to his office complaining that Kyouya has once again released Roll to needle the walls, relieving stress.

_Takeshi Yamamoto_

It's not so much that anyone has ever had reason to doubt Takeshi Yamamoto's loyalty. The real question is where his passion lies. It takes a macabre trip to the future the news of his father's as well as his best friend's assassinations and a man-to-man talk with Squalo for him to realize that baseball will have to go on a permanent hiatus.

It takes a phenomenal show of power during Choice and ten years of completing frighteningly efficient assassination missions without complaint for the rest of the Family to realize what Tsunayoshi knew from the beginning: To Takeshi, the Vongola versus baseball was not an issue of work versus play. The challenge was trying to balance families. It wasn't until one was nearly wiped out that he noticed that the scales were off-kilter.

_Hayato Gokudera_

Learning that Ryohei, Kyouya, and Shoichi kept him out of the plan to feign Tsunayoshi's death was a slap in the face. After returning to the past, Hayato Gokudera vowed to become the kind of right-hand man that could be trusted with sensitive information without breaking down. While his fellow Guardians are busy getting stronger, Hayato spends the next ten years attempting to calm the storm of emotions.

The product of such a laborious task pays off when Hayato grows into a man who still lacks patience, but can at least keep his bombs in his pocket. What used to be worried recklessness becomes exceptional work ethic and a caffeine addiction. In the impossible event that in this new future Byakuran would once again rise to power, Tsunayoshi now thinks that Hayato might just be the first Guardian he goes to when he and Shoichi devise a plan.

_Ryohei Sasagawa_

Even with his vehement insistence that everyone should be extreme, Ryohei Sasagawa recognizes that at some point he has to stop recruiting club members and start focusing more on the Family. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the power to bend wills the way Xanxus can; he spends a great deal of time trying to comprehend this. The concept of limits is foreign to him. He never quite gets out of the crippling slump it puts him in until he masters Knuckle's Maximum Break.

By the time the ordeal with Millfiore is over, Ryohei is already struggling with another conundrum. All of Hayato's charts put together still couldn't accurately describe their situation in the future and the somber atmosphere that the other Guardians (save Kyouya) return home with is uncomfortably sobering. Tsunayoshi seems most afflicted of all. Someone tells the boxer it's just The Tenth's hyper intuition, but that's not it. More than anything, Tsunayoshi looks pleased and it's obvious that when he says, thank you, Ryohei he's grateful for something that happened that seems to have slipped Ryohei's memory.

_Chrome Dokuro_

It is hard to say when the men of the Vongola began to relax when Chrome Dokuro is nearby. They all spend years treading carefully awkwardly around her. Though she never says it, Chrome finds it rather insulting considering even Mukuro (suspicious as he is) is given mission details on the few occasions he decides to grace the Family with his presence. Kyoko has to prod Tsunayoshi into reminding everyone that he recognizes Nagi as a Guardian and she is not to be treated like some visiting civilian every time she enters the base.

Even with the support of Decimo behind her, Chrome still feels the need to prove herself. She helps out with meals long after Tsunayoshi arranges for the Vongola to have official chefs and strains herself beyond her physical limits (much to Mukuro's dismay) to keep up necessary illusions during high-profile missions. A decade after the battles against the Varia, Haru asks her who exactly she's living for and it's noticeable when she pauses before answering. Even more noticeable, though, is that she carefully responds Boss instead of Mukuro-sama .

This exchange eventually reaches Tsunayoshi and everyone expects it send him into a stammering fit. Instead, he composes an impressive poker face and goes about his business for the day. When he returns home that evening, he traps Kyoko in a nearly backbreaking embrace. My family is finally complete, he says.

_Lambo_

If one asks who changed the most over the last ten years, everyone in the Family agrees that it is definitely Lambo. Of course, his annoying five-year-old habits didn't disappear; they are just replaced by worse, fifteen-year-old habits. And while he is a more competent fighter now, he's still not terribly reliable unless he's asked to fish odd things out of wall sockets in Mama's house that may or may not have been placed there by Verde.

The thing that impresses people is the fact that Lambo is stunningly perceptive when it comes to the inner workings of the tenth generation Vongola Guardians. It also turns out that the little Cow makes a wonderful confidant when Dino is otherwise occupied. Even the ever distrustful Hayato confesses that he has never once been put off by the fact that the Lightning Guardian never officially accepted his title or abandoned the Bovino name. Really, if he wanted to, Lambo could take all the secrets he has learned about Vongola and seriously handicap them. The other Guardians figure that he doesn't because he's simply too tired to act on any devious plans. Reborn tells them it's because he knows it'd earn him quite an ass-kicking. Tsunayoshi likes to think that their human lightning rod doesn't try to hurt the Family because he's always been a good kid at heart.

_Tsunayoshi Sawada_

There is no way Tsunayoshi can deny that his Family he notes a distinct difference between family and Family as his mother is Nana Sawada, not Nana Vongola; she has nothing to do with this is nothing short of dysfunctional. On top of the Vongola boss's duties of maintaining power in the mafia world, he has to deal with the questionably allied, batshit insane assassination squad known as the Varia and the incomprehensibly destructive idiosyncrasies of his own Guardians. Kyoko assures him that all the excitement of his job is good for him although he's positive that all it's doing is taking years off of his life.

But for all of his troubles, Tsunayoshi recognizes that the six ring holders provide a sense of stability. In the crazy world of underground deals, coup d' tas, time travel sagas, and family wars, the Guardians that represent the elements under the Sky are his only constant. He can always count on Kyouya's justice, Takeshi's hidden strength, Hayato's brilliance, Ryohei's boundless energy, Chrome's illusions, and Lambo's convenient usefulness at unexpected times. When anyone asks how he's come to rely on such a fantastical cast of people, he admits that they're not so terrible, all things considered. As far as his Family and friendships are concerned, Tsunayoshi is content.

_**end**_

* * *

I actually had another idea for "content" since it can be read two different ways, but I went with the feeling rather than the uh..."measure of quantity" type thing. Since I already kind of showed contentedness in _Comfortable Routine_, I chose to focus on the tenth generation as a whole rather than Yama and Dera by themselves. I think it takes a certain kind of tolerance to put up with the Guardians' shenanigans. With the way KHR starts, you'd never suspect Tsuna of being able to do it. It's rather impressive, I think. Our little Idiot Tsuna is growing up so fast~

Thank you for reading!


	4. Natural Disasters

_**Natural Disasters  
**_Pairing: heavy hints of 8059, Squalo-centric  
Rating: PG13  
Genre: general, character study  
Summary: There is such as thing as knowing _too _much.  
Prompt: Change

* * *

If there's one thing Squalo does not like, it's change. Every aspect of his life has a certain routine to it; things always just fall into place or he screams until they're how he likes it. Every morning he wakes, wrestles his hair into order, makes rounds about headquarters, and then kills a few people, orders prime rib in bulk or does whatever the hell Xanxus is too lazy to take care of himself.

But every now and then, Squalo gets called on to aid in the instruction of the brat and his friends and it's not until _Xanxus _tells him to go that he books a flight to Japan. It's assumed that Squalo is just stubborn and pigheaded—and he _is, _but those traits are unrelated to this particular scenario. He's got reasons behind his reluctance that he won't admit to anyone.

Takeshi Yamamoto is the only thing, the only personin his life that is not a constant.

Watching the Decimo brats grow up was certainly entertaining, but with Yamamoto things were different. Squalo went from kicking the kid's ass to having to actually put a little effort into fighting; followed by outright sparring and ultimately, grudgingly admitting defeat by the hands of a baseball freak.

And now, when Reborn decides to test the patience of a twenty-five year old Tsunayoshi, Squalo is the only tutor not called to action. His reaction to finding out that his services are no longer necessary is to throw a brilliant tantrum and make sure Lussuria will be stuck dealing with piles of incapacitated recruits for a week. After that, he holes up in his quarters and takes to furiously polishing the sword of his prosthetic hand while fuming over Yamamoto's credentials as a capable Guardian.

Yamamoto showed slow but steady progress when Squalo first came to train him. Squalo liked that. It made sense. Rain was supposed to stick to a pattern. He often criticized Yamamoto's technique—his Rain was _too _tranquil—but he couldn't fault the kid for sticking to his guns.

Except for when he didn't.

The baseball brat and the bombing brat began to show a peculiar preference for each other's company as they grew older and Yamamoto's pattern became convoluted. More often than not, he would come to training with his trademark grin superglued in place that no amount of ass-whoopage could erase. His steps were lighter than they used to be—too flowery— when Squalo came at him and suddenly he was as difficult to catch as his annoying little swallow. Other days the sky was noticeably darker and his steps came hard—too easy to read—and he was slower, yet firm as a boulder when Squalo's blade hit flesh. Time and again, Squalo's temper went through the roof and he lashed out at his rival—his _equal?—_with both words and sword.

Then, a day came when Squalo was no longer content with shouting derogatory threats at the young man. They'd been battling in the woods that made up the outskirts of Namimori when he forced the brat against a fence at bladepoint and demanded an explanation for his incon-fucking-sistency in combat. In that moment the rain that had been pouring steadily on the back of Squalo's neck became painful like hail.

Yamamoto avoided the Shark's gaze as he spoke, but his voice was steel. "You can't be consistent when you're in a storm."

At the time, Squalo believed his question was being avoided and it earned Yamamoto a fist square in his jaw. It isn't until his detachable hand is as polished as his sword itself that Squalo understands what his protégé was talking about that day.

The relationship between Takeshi Yamamoto and Hayato Gokudera was more complex than he cared to know. And the issue with that is that Squalo often knows a great deal of things that he wished he just _didn't. _

In an instant, it dawns on him that Yamamoto's Rain is entirely dependent on the condition of his relationship—God, is it _really?_—with the silver-haired scum. When everything between them is peachy, Squalo is stuck fighting a prancing, pansy-ass, boy with the mentality of a swooning schoolgirl. Other days, when the weather is unbearably shitty, when _Yamamoto _is the one to request a sparring match, there's a good chance that the two of them fought over washing dishes or taking out the trash or something disgustingly trivial.

Then, during critical battles in the name of the Vongola, Squalo bursts into the scene on a levitating shark, ready to pick things up where Tsuna and company half-assed it. Sometimes though, it turns out things are not half-assed so much as _absolutely obliterated _and it takes an absurd amount of puzzle-piecing to understand that there is actually something besides Xanxus that can level an entire mountain range with sheer force.

Having worked under Xanxus for over a decade, Squalo is most aware of the power of the element of Sky and all that it encompasses. Incidentally, he is the only one aside from Tsunayoshi Sawada who has worked out that when you take two strong-willed men, particularly the Rain and the Storm, you get one hell of a typhoon. Normally, this is something Squalo would applaud. The force of a natural disaster is definitely something to be reckoned with.

The problem with the whole thing, Squalo laments, is that there is _nothing _natural about what those kids do in their free time and typhoons are evanescent.

And terribly inconsistent.

* * *

It took quite a while to get this fic out. Sorry for the wait! After I'd finished it, wouldn't let me post anything for a while. XP Things are back to normal now, it seems!  
Is the title a "too soon" kind if thing? I don't mean to make light of the events in Japan. ORZ I'm sorry, it just _works _here.

I decided to stick to the core pairing of 8059 while still doing a little character study. I love writing Squalo soooo much. PROFANITY EVERYWHERE. Aside from that, I'm very intrigued by the dynamic between Squalo and Yamamoto. There are so many blurred lines about how exactly they see each other (which was honestly the most difficult thing about writing from Superbi's perspective).

**_Thank you for reading!_**


	5. Adhesive

**_Adhesive_  
**Pairing: 8059, TYL (Millfiore arc excluded)  
Rating: PG13  
Genre: angst  
Summary: What is the best way to keep something precious?  
Prompt: Dreams

* * *

It starts off simple. Takeshi is too easygoing and easily lead by his privates to see any flags when Hayato traps him in a crushing embrace the second the taller man walks in the door. "You're mine," Hayato tells him as he strains to mouth the other's neck, ignoring the barrier of tie and collar between them.

Takeshi doesn't know better, only returns the hug and tips his head back confirming, "Yeah, I am."

This sort of thing, this intense greeting at the door continues for weeks. They'd always been rather active sexually, but they were even more so now, retiring to the bedroom for things other than sleep even when Takeshi is clearly in the wrong state of mind after field missions.

Takeshi assumes it's because Hayato is bored, discontent with being away from the office. In the years following the building of an official Vongola headquarters just outside of Namimori, Hayato had racked up months of sick leave and vacation time, refusing to stay home when he deserved to. The sleepless nights spent poring over files and days without eating enough seemed to have caught up to him, though. He'd become increasingly lackluster, biting back at offenses with only the faintest of insults and not even bothering to show off his arsenal of explosives anymore. Finally, Tsunayoshi put his foot down and forced Hayato to have a week to himself.

The issue now is that Hayato has been refusing to return to work, having Takeshi bring things home and deliver reports in his stead. Tsunayoshi takes it as a stubborn bout after finally tasting life away from the office and allows it under the condition that he keeps up with his duties and attends monthly staff meetings in person.

Takeshi is thankful for Tsunayoshi's lenience, but he can't help but be concerned that perhaps the man isn't using his hyper intuition like he should because there is most definitely something _off_ about Hayato.

* * *

_**4 months later…**_

People shoot concerned looks at the doorway that Takeshi excuses himself through when his phone goes off for the umpteenth time. Curious eyes of guests milling about are following his every move as the Vongola host a number of Japan-based families in hopes of lengthening their list of allies. It is at times like this that Takeshi wishes he were more fluent in Italian so those surrounding him would not have to listen to the speech of a man trying to soothe a person who is obviously distressed.

His tone remains light, but irritation finds the edges of his tongue as he speaks into the mouthpiece. "Gokudera," he sighs, "do you need something else?"

Hayato's voice comes through the receiver, rushed. _"I'm sorry I keep bothering you. I-I just, I don't—"_

Takeshi runs a hand through his hair, urging himself not to pace. "No, it's fine. What's the matter?"

The weak smile on Hayato's face is evident through the phone. _"Takeshi…"_

There's a pause that's becoming too familiar in their conversations and Takeshi recognizes that he has to assist his partner through it. "Hm?"

"_Takeshi, there's a…a file on my desk from Bianchi. Can you bring it with you? Bring it to me when you come home?"_

"Sure." Takeshi hopes that his smile, though worn a bit by this point, is able to reach Hayato the way Hayato's everything grabs him when they speak like this. "Relax, ok? Rest or play the piano or something. I noticed you still have a long way to go with that novel you bought the other day. Why don't you work on that? Just keep yourself busy until I finish things up here for Tsuna."

"_A-Alright." _

"I'm gonna go now, ok?"

Suddenly, the urgency in Hayato's voice is back. _"You're coming back, right? You have to come back."_

"I—Yes—I mean—Of course." Takeshi gets nervous whenever their conversations reach this point, sometimes escalating until Hayato is hysterical. "Wait for me, Gokudera."

* * *

_**2 months later…**_

Takeshi nearly drops the bags of groceries he's carrying to his car trying to fish his cell phone out of his pants pocket. He doesn't need to guess who it is; who could possibly be calling him for the twentieth time in the last thirty minutes? He grips his phone between two fingers as he makes his way to his vehicle and doesn't answer until everything has been thrown into the trunk. There is no time to talk as soon as he allows the line to connect.

"_Where are you?"_ Hayato's voice is icier than when he's dealing with his usual irritants. _"It shouldn't take you that long to pick up a few things. You _promised,_ you said—"_

These days even Takeshi has trouble keeping himself from flying off the handle. "_Hayato,"_ he growls, knowing that the change in address outside of a romantic setting makes the other flinch. He ducks into the driver's seat and shoves his key into the ignition. "I'm on my way. Calm down. Please." He wants to add, "before I strangle you" but decides against it.

Traffic is not in anyone's favor unfortunately and Takeshi finds himself driving at an unbearably slow speed. He shifts the gear to park when he closes the distance between himself and the car in front of him yet again. Just then, the tinny jingle that he's beginning to hate goes off.

Reluctantly, he flips open his phone and weakly answers, "Yes?"

"_Takeshi, where the hell are you?" _Hayato hisses.

This too, is something Takeshi hates. It's only recently that the other man's attitude has been this nasty, but it manages to work through his nerves quickly. "There was an accident—"

Hayato parrots him, _" 'An accident.' "_ The now expected pause that means Hayato's emotions are beginning to boil over. _"An accident, he says. Takeshi—no, shut up—Takeshi, you get your ass home _now._"_

The familiar click of a line being cut follows immediately and it takes all of Takeshi's willpower not to throw his phone out the window. He instead opts to throw it in the back seat.

Another thirty minutes pass before Takeshi ascends the flight of stairs that leads up to the home that is becoming more and more like a battleground.

He ignores his phone as it begins to ring yet again, resolving to explain that he ignored the last seven calls due to eager police officers patrolling the roads and he was so close now that this call wasn't even worth picking up.

Hayato must have heard it going off because Takeshi hears a door open and the man's head becomes visible down the hall. He says nothing though, just makes eye contact and then disappears back into their apartment.

The door is still ajar when Takeshi reaches it. He doesn't bother to kick off his shoes and makes his way into the kitchen, depositing the bags on the counter. "Hayato?" he calls, digging a few cans out to begin sorting the groceries. "Of all days not to greet me at the door, huh? These bags were heavy," he complains jokingly, anticipating a quip in response.

Instead he ends up jumping, startled by the sound of sturdy glass hitting the kitchen table. Hayato is leaning against a pushed in chair behind him, cigarette in mouth, scowl on face, and free hand fingering the intricate designs carved onto the ashtray that caused the noise. Takeshi turns to stare at him, confusion immediately knitting his brows together.

Hayato speaks first, words coming out slow and deliberate, clearly trying to hold on to his last threads of patience. "Where did you go?"

Tension fills the room in a heartbeat and Takeshi speaks in a forced, even tone as well in preparation for the rage that is sure to come. "I told you I was going to get food and—"

"I know what you _told_ me, but where did you actually _go_?" Hayato was tapping the ashtray with his fingernails now.

Takeshi can't help but roll his eyes. "You see that I'm here with bags of groceries don't you?"

Suddenly Takeshi is flinching as a loud crack echoes in his ears and shards of glass litter the floor. He brings a shaky hand up to nurse the fresh cut on his chin as he gives Hayato an incredulous look.

Hayato doesn't register the mess he's made, just pulls the cigarette from between his lips and throws it at Takeshi, but it lands in the sink.

A solidness fills Takeshi's eyes and his face turns to stone as he reaches and arm back to run the faucet and make sure the cigarette is out. He lets it run for a moment before shutting it off slowly and crossing the room in three large strides, glass crunching beneath his shoes.

He grabs Hayato by the shoulders and brings his face in close as if to examine it. "What is wrong with you?" he hisses. Hayato doesn't respond, so his grip tightens and he shakes the smaller man. "Hayato!" When the silveret jerks away and heads toward the bedroom, Takeshi follows, determined to continue the conversation.

"Hayato, you've been acting strange for months and it's only getting worse," he explains, remaining standing while his companion seats himself on the bed and refuses to look at him. "I don't understand you anymore. You've changed."

At that the Storm glares up at him. "I've changed? _You've_ changed. Staying out later, not answering your goddamn phone. Why don't you tell me what the hell is wrong with you, Takeshi?"

"Are you serious? Honestly, _you're_ what's wrong with me! Always moody and violent and—and just _clingy."_

There's a crack in Hayato's voice when he speaks. "If I don't cling how else will I get you to stay?"

For once the Rain pauses, unable to come up with a response.

So Hayato continues. "You say you'll come back, but you keep getting more and more distant. I can tell you're reluctant to be here, to be stuck with me. You would be long gone by now if I didn't check on you. How am I supposed to know you're not out making arrangements to move somewhere else? How do I know you're not planning to move on with some_one_ else?"

The swordsman's hands flap at his sides, unsure how to express whatever emotion is coiling through his consciousness and muddling his thoughts. "Whoever said I was leaving you? I already told you I'm here to stay and I don't break promises. You know that."

"No," Hayato corrects him, eyes brimming with tears he wouldn't dare let fall, "I don't know. I don't know and it bothers me."

Again, Takeshi goes to the other man. He moves to pull him into an embrace, but is shaken off. "You don't have to be scared—"

"Don't fucking coddle me, alright? I'm not a _woman_. It's just that I can't trust you. Not one-hundred percent, anyway."

"But why? What did I do?"

A pause unlike the one they'd become accustomed to rests between them before the bomber answers.

"I have these dreams." He raises a hand to silence Takeshi when he opens his mouth. "Dreams that you'll leave. Dreams that no matter what I say, no matter what I do, you're just going to go out and never come back. I don't mean like dying or anything. If you do that's your own damn fault. I mean 'leaving' like you don't care about me or you just don't want me anymore. So yeah, I've been 'clingy' as you say. But it's only because I...y'know." A blush that'd been missed for a long time colors his cheeks.

Takeshi sighs. "I'll admit that you've been...difficult over the last couple of months. More so than usual, I mean." As serious as this whole thing was, he felt an invisible heaviness leave his shoulders. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd call me a little less and didn't throw ashtrays at me anymore. That was worse than one of your bombs, I think." Hayato snorted. "But I've never thought of leaving you. Honest. Even if I did pack up and go, you'd still track me down even if it was only to kill me, right?"

"You're not worth that much trouble," Hayato sneers, crossing his arms.

"But I'm worth this much, huh?" Takeshi asks, pointing to his chin. A scab was already forming and blood had crusted around it.

One look at it had the assailant grimacing, though he'd done much worse to people thanks more to his profession rather than his temper. "Clean that shit up. You look disgusting."

"Let's not forget who did it," Takeshi reminds him in a singsong voice. A hand snaps up to smack him, but he's already on his feet by the end of his teasing. "Let me take care of the kitchen. You have something more important to take care of." Hayato looks at him, puzzled. "Call Tsuna," he clarifies before exiting the room, joking tone gone from his voice.

The order has Hayato staring at his cell phone on the nightstand distantly. He reaches over to grab it and flips it open, looking at his call log with a distasteful frown. No matter how far down he scrolls, he only sees outgoing calls to his partner. He doesn't stop pressing the down arrow on the direction pad until the phone cursor jumps back up to his most recent call from ten minutes ago. He purses his lips and navigates to his contacts. Tsunayoshi's name is the first to show up on the list of speed dial contacts.

The Boss's voice comes through the earpiece in two rings. _"Gokudera-kun? It's late. Is something wrong?"_

Hayato evens his breathing and musters his best, most proud Right-Hand Man voice, "I'll be back in the office Monday."

It's clear that Tsunayoshi is surprised by this declaration. _"Are you sure you're feeling better? If you're not up to it, I—"_

"Juudaime, I'm your right-hand man. It's my duty to be up to it. I'm sorry for slacking off so much and give you my word that I'll make up for it."

Tsunayoshi's tone makes it obvious he is beaming. _"It'll be nice to see you around the office again. We've missed you, Gokudera-kun."_

"Thanks," Hayato says before bidding his boss farewell and slowly shutting is phone. He looks up to see Takeshi peering cautiously at him from the doorway, broom and dustpan in hand. "What are you looking at?" he snaps. "Your chin still looks like ass. Clean yourself up and get in here."

Takeshi blinks at the sudden bark of orders. The dreaded pause comes again and while Takeshi was prepared for an explosion, he is pleasantly surprised when Hayato lashes out with mean-spiritedness rather than anxiety.

"Are you stupid or something? Hurry up!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

"And you're coming back, right?" One look at Hayato reveals a knowing smile.

Takeshi lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Right."

**_END_**

* * *

Aah, this wasn't my best. Getting this fic out was like pulling teeth. XP Sorry about that, guys. Hopefully I can step my game up for the next chapter.

_Thanks for reading!_


	6. A Ship Devoid of Sails

**_A Ship Devoid of Sails_  
**Pairing: 8059  
Rating: PG13  
Genre: angst  
Summary: You can't say that the glass is half empty or full if no one has any water.  
Prompt: Pessimism

* * *

Yamamoto "Baseball Idiot" Takeshi just cannot take a fucking hint. He doesn't go away when you slam all the doors in the apartment. He keeps talking when you've got a book open. He always sits with his back closest to the wall directly behind the piano when you're playing a piece in the next room over where you've barred entry. Worst of all, he never fails to ask about what's going on and if you're ok when you just want him to loosen his tie and take off is goddamn clothes.

But he always expects _you _to take the hint when he gracelessly sets it in front of you. You're not supposed to go looking when he disappears for a few days. You're supposed to believe that fake smile he puts up when he says "it's nothing." On the days when he comes home ragged with smears of god-knows-whose blood on his suit, you can't insist on finding out how he's feeling because when he tugs weakly at your belt you're just supposed to help him.

There's not a chance in hell that you can have a bad day without having an ear to rant in or a shoulder to cry on. If you have ideas of keeping something to yourself you ought to give up while you're ahead because he will coerce it out of you even if it takes weeks or months or years. No matter how much you fuck up you can't count on him to leave you because he's got the loyalty of an ancient dog.

It's not fair how one-sided he makes everything. He won't take the ear or shoulder you offer. His thoughts are locked in an impenetrable vault falling into a bottomless ocean within himself. If he makes even one small mistake and knows it he starts preparing to deal with the consequences of you leaving even after you've told him a million times that you won't.

You know he's the best of the best. You won't find anyone that matches you any better than he does. But he disagrees. He's positive that he's the worst and that you're too nice, ignoring any other person that might try to take his place. He is everything you could ever want, everything you could ever need. But no matter how much he acts like it, he won't believe it even when he looks in the mirror.

Yamamoto "Baseball Idiot" Takeshi is your most ideal companion and also the worst because he is stupid and self-torturing and despite having all the optimism of a children's television show and a pile of self-help books, is the ultimate pessimist.


	7. Negotiations 101

**Negotiations 101  
**Pairing: N/A  
Rating: PG13  
Genre: comedy  
_1697W  
_Summary: Hayato confirms that his longtime belief that the only reason he doesn't like manners is because manners don't like him.

* * *

Xanxus sees very few things fit of trading money for. Things like weaponry (he makes Squalo "acquire" it) and entertainment (everything Squalo does basically) and sex (also attainable with "assistance" from Squalo). So really, all of this is Xanxus's fault.

It starts when Hayato returns to his guest suite at the Cavallone estate. He figured he was being punished for some grievance or another when Tsuna first told him he'd be making a trip out to the countryside of You're Fucked If You Ever Need Quick Reinforcements, Italy, but it's not so bad. He gets up at seven each morning and sits through a few boring hours of negotiations where he can't say anything. Just emit the Vongola presence, Cavallone said. After Dino's talking gets him nowhere, both parties agree to reconvene the next day and Hayato pours over notes from more exciting things going on elsewhere in the Vongola sphere.

But on day four the shark man is draped on the suite couch, right on the suit Hayato had pressed a week earlier. They're both quiet, eyes communicating nothing more than exasperation at each other's presence. Hayato sighs and sits on the bed, lighting a cigarette as soon as he gets there.

Squalo doesn't speak until a lazy sea of smoke has makes its way to his side of the room. "This suit is so fucking ugly."

Hayato drags his sight to the fabric wrinkling beneath Squalo's legs. It's a garment worth ten of the man's prosthetic arm and Hayato thinks about maybe freeing up some of his limbs to help make more stumps for mock toes and elbows and maybe a head complete with a detonation feature. Instead he opts to drag his eyes back to the window and drag comfort into his lungs.

"Leave out the same window you came in through," Hayato says finally.

Instead, Squalo shimmies a bit in place, working some extra wrinkles into the garment. "I need a movie from America."

What the hell is he talking about. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The Boss said—"

"Why is anything Xanxus says my problem?" Hayato can sense the asking of a favor from hundreds of thousands of miles away. He itches for another cigarette and wonders briefly how it would look to have two in his mouth simultaneously. Like exhaust pipes, he decides.

Squalo's got his sword extended from his sleeve now, tracing the thin pinstripes of the suit with the tip. "Get me a goddamn American DVD, brat. Not an Italian import, either. American cover, American synopsis on the back, American menu. American."

"You do understand that the Italian version has all that, but with subtitles, right?  
Hayato is genuinely intrigued now, the faintest of smirks edging its way onto his face.

"I need it by tonight, brat." Squalo still won't look at him. He's inspecting his blade, watching the room's decorations in its reflection.

It's still not abundantly clear why Xanxus is so supposedly specific like this about a DVD or why Squalo cannot execute this task without telling Hayato. He tells Squalo just that and finishes with, "If you could be a little less imbecilic and help me understand _why—"_

"Because fuck you, you dim piece of trash, that's why! Get the DVD!"

Both of them are frowning deeply at each other, annoyance at the forefront of their bared emotions. There's no seamstress in the world Hayato would trust with repairing the five inch long tear Squalo's made in the breast of his suit. Hayato wants to smoke his entire carton.

By the time Squalo leaves Hayato has a shredded suit and absolutely zero answers.

* * *

Takeshi doesn't provide a lot of answers either. He's just excitable and headache-inducing over speakerphone. As soon as Hayato mentions Squalo's errand on Xanxus's behalf, he is told fourteen times in several tones of urgency that he needs to assist the bastard, preferably sooner than is humanly possible.

"If Xanxus wants it tonight, then it's got to be tonight. We really can't afford to allocate extra resources to repairing the Varia's headquarters right now." Takeshi makes a good point there. The last time Xanxus had a tantrum he literally blew the roof off of the main building and Tsuna had to make an appearance with his Will on display.

Hayato massages his temples before leaning back over the table, grumbling into the phone's receiver. "But why _me? _Why can't he do it himself? Or make you do it? You're his pet and all."

Takeshi doesn't pause to give the name thought. "You're closest. Besides, he can't show up at the street market around there. He got banned."

"_Why?"_

"Why _not? _ Squalo's you times a thousand."

Hayato feels the familiar burn of irritation working its way up his chest before belatedly remembering how ill-suited he is for anything where he can't smoke and or lose his temper without repercussions.

Takeshi mentions something about how his day was and Hayato hangs up.

* * *

Five minutes into wandering around the market Hayato thinks he might end up banned too. The shopkeepers' children are noisy and old people have a habit of touching him unnecessarily as they pass and he's stepped into several small potholes and scuffed his shoes. He's sure that all of the locals are wary of him, overdressed, clearly lost, and reaching for his back pocket too often.

After ten minutes Hayato decides it's been a half hour, decides Squalo can just deal with Xanxus like always and starts trying to find which way is out. He thinks he's found it too, after passing the same vegetable stand three times and taking a right instead of heading left. Instead he finds himself at a dead end, directly in front of a stall manned by an elderly gentleman with a slightly hunched back and far receded hairline. There's only a small bookshelf behind him and his table, but it's impossibly packed with hundreds of spines of CD cases. The man acknowledges his presence with nothing more than a smile that seems permanently etched into his features, even under Hayato's harsh default glare.

"Anything I can do for you, sir?" the man asks when Hayato's silence has been long enough for someone to wonder if he's brain dead.

Hayato has to think unnecessarily hard to regain his grasp on Italian suddenly. "Is this— Can I— Do you…" He shuts his eyes and counts backwards from three. "Would those happen to be DVDs?" he eventually manages, pointing at the man's wares.

"Yes," he answers, turning a fraction to allow a better view of the bookcase. His eyes might be open, but they're so beady and islanded by wrinkles that it's impossible to know for certain. "Movies from anywhere. What are you looking for?"

Something about this tiny, ancient man is unsettling. Hayato swears internally when he reaches for a dynamite stick in his belt before remembering for the nth time that he's got nothing but his wallet, phone, and smokes on him. "Uh… Something American?"

"Do you know the title? Or you can describe it. My daughter loves foreign films." He spreads his arms widely in a grand gesture. " I know the synopsis of nearly everything."

With that, Hayato has pegged what's wrong with this man. Enthusiastic parents are the worst salespeople, he decided long ago, around the time Ryohei had tried to help sell his son's scout cookies at the office claiming that if a six year old likes them, every man should, else be considered to have horrible taste in everything. "Whatever's popular, I guess," he shrugs, hoping to end this conversation before the man tries to pawn his daughter off instead of whatever movies she's praised.

"Certainly!" The man pays no mind to Hayato's glibness and expertly takes a case from the middle of the shelf. "Seventy-nine euro," he says, placing the case on the table in front of him and unlocking a tin case that sits to his right.

Hayato blinks hard. "Seventy-nine? For _one?_"

The man answers him easily, like he's heard this before. "These aren't easy to get," he explains simply.

So Hayato bargains, despite the fact that he's sure that anything over thirty is really asking too much. "Sixty-five," he tries.

"No negotiations," the elder states tersely. His attitude is still neutral, but there's firmness behind his tone now. He's definitely been in this exact scenario before.

Perhaps recently.

Perhaps that vague newspaper article about a crazed, uniformed man trashing the entire market and earning a lifetime ban along with an arrest warrant was about Squalo.

Perhaps Squalo shouldn't go to a "_demolitions expert" _to redeem him in a situation where it has already been proven that violence isn't the answer (for once).

And perhaps Hayato shouldn't have sworn at the man and shoved his table until he was trapped between it and the bookcase, threatening to take his life with the tin money box as a weapon, but taunting mafia men is usually not in one's best interest and Italy is not the place to play "Guess Who Kills for a Living".

* * *

Tsuna sends out a family-wide email voicing his preference that everyone be patient enough to just buy things legally and wait for them to come in the mail like normal people instead of trying to purchase pirated ones from greedy salespeople people after Xanxus has meltdown number six that month and Hayato is kindly asked to vacate the Cavallone estate until wanted posters with his face stop getting plastered around the countryside.

Around the office Takeshi tsks at him. "Really?" he asks when he brings files to his desk, "An old man?" "Seventy-nine euro," he singsongs every time he does rounds to drop off people's paychecks, "when we get paid several hundred _thousand_ a month."

From that point on Chrome is sent to future negotiations with Dino and Lussuria purchases subscriptions to both Hulu and Netflix, neither of which Xanxus can use because the internet router is always among the casualties when Squalo fails to complete some other task and everyone there is stuck camping outside until construction crews feel it's safe enough to outfit the building with a(nother) roof.


End file.
